Cecidit in Lucem
by snowbeforesummer
Summary: Chiro's life before he meets the monkeys. About how they changed him, and how he changed them. Multi chapter story.
1. Chapter 1

Chiro's shoes clinked against the roadside path. They were new, the shiniest pair he'd ever owned. It wasn't everyday he'd get new shoes. Today was special, a day which he liked to think of as unique. It was the only day he'd get some extra money from the orphanage headmaster, not a lot, around fifteen dollars or so, but still a great privilege.

An ancient bakery loomed in front of Chiro, with fogged windows of age and a door of dented wood which was hard to imagine that it had once shined with pride. Hesitantly, Chiro walked in, careful not to step on the rats that had gathered near the entrance.

Inside was a small, bald man with a pock-marked face. The moment Chiro stepped in, he looked up from his book and smiled.

"Happy Birthday Chiro!" he said, standing up to shake the boy's hand, "Congratulations on bein' twelve this year! Look how tall ye've grown, its been a year since I saw you on your last birthday!"

"Um... thank you, Mr Brown," Chiro replied, blushing, "I'm actually here to get-"

"I already know what ye wan'!" the baker interrupted, running into the kitchen before emerging with a small pink box with a tiny green ribbon on top. "Here ye go, for m' regular customer!"

"Mr Brown..." Chiro took 5 dollars out of his wallet. "I'll pay you-"

"No need, m'boy! It's for free! You can have it and share it with all ye friends in the orphanage! I bet they'll shower ya in presents, eh? Teenagers, always so wild these days. I miss m'teenage days."

For a moment, Chiro felt something deflate in him. Orphanage and friends never fit into the same sentence, and it surprised him at how smoothly the man said it. Then again, Chiro reminded himself, Mr Brown didn't exactly know that he didn't _have _any friends. Pasting on a smile before he looked too sad, Chiro grinned at the small baker.

"Thank you," he said, "But I can't possibly take this for free..."

"Nonsense, Chiro!" Mr Brown slapped him on the back, "It's what I do every year! Ever wonder where all ye cake come from after all these years? I've made every single one of 'em myself and then I give it to..."

He trailed off absentmindedly, shifting his weight. Chiro knew that Mr Brown and his parents were extremely close, and their death had devastated the baker. Sometimes when Chiro went to visit his parents' grave, he'd find a candle shaped like a flower resting peacefully on the soil.

. Mr Brown, like Chiro, didn't get money easily. After all, it was Chiro's parents who had helped him open up his own bakery and paid for all the construction fees. Few years passed, but Mr Brown stayed loyal to the Nielis, helping them whenever they requested and joining them for their weekly Friday tea. Every year, Chiro's parents would surprise him with a birthday cake for his birthday, and he'd known all along who made it. Mr and Mrs Nieli were great people whom everybody in Shuggazoom admired, but they were hopeless with their hands. Chiro's mom was only good at making tea, and his dad was unfortunately, was only talented in setting out plates and utensils on the table.

"Anyway!" The baker said, clearing his throat softly, "get goin' Chiro! We don't wan' to have all ye friends waitin'! Go share some cake!"

Nodding, Chiro walked out of the bakery, giving Mr Brown one last wave before exiting.

Chiro had no friends. That much was pretty simple to figure out. Nobody ever texted him for homework help or went out with him to explore the city like all the other kids. He had seen them shopping in the malls, watching a movie, or in the arcade playing their hearts out in front of the machine. He told himself that he could manage alone, but it had left an empty feeling in him. Ever since when he'd seen how others wish one another Happy Christmas last year while he just stood in the corner near the fireplace, he'd wished that he was in the crowd, just enjoying the festive mood of this merry festival. But he was left alone that day, and nobody did come to wish him a Happy Christmas, even though he did wait with a small hope. He waited in the corner, and waited and waited, until the hour hand pointed on 10 on the clock and people started to file out of the room.

Nobody had come. Nobody ever showed up. His entire existence was forgotten. Or rather, that was how Chiro liked to see it, so that his mind would believe that he was not entirely a loser.

He knew, however, that nobody ever forgot about him. He knew people saw him, remembered him. But they never showed it, ignoring his presence all this while, pretending that he was just the wind.

It'd be hypocritical of Chiro to blame them for pretending. After all, he was the one who was pretending that he was a completely normal kid.

Chiro checked his phone for a text message, or a missed call. Nothing. No messages, no nothing. He felt his heart sink a little.

When the orphanage came into sight, Chiro drew in a deep breath and stared at the building. It was huge, taking up about the size of a bungalow. There was a swimming pool, a games centre, a library with all the nation's books and a giant cafeteria which sold every type of food all around the world. It was a perfect children's home, with all the facilities a child could ever ask for.

Yet Chiro himself resented it. Once, he thought that his parents died so they could send him to this place where he would live in a better environment with luxuries and riches. But he'd thrown away that thought after the first month. Occasionally, he'd dig it out of his mind, praying that it was true after a bad day, telling himself that all good things would come if he waited.

It was utterly humiliating to eat lunch alone everyday, sitting at the table away from all the other kids. Chiro had been self-conscious about this the first few months, and had created quite a bad image for himself, and seeing that he wouldn't be making any new friendships soon, he learned to ignore it after that.

Chiro walked into the building. He walked through the empty corridors, into his room and shut the door behind him, placing the cake gently on the table.

"Maybe someone will remember," he whispered, checking his phone once more for empty messages with fake smileys at the back. "Or not."

People thought that if students bullied you, you had tough luck. What they didn't know was that silence kills you more.

A year ago, he'd celebrated it with his parents. On 7 September 2030, Mr and Mrs Nieli had bought him a toy robot with the latest functions and tools. Chiro cheered when he saw it, and had not let it out of his sight for more than 10 minutes. His parents stared at him with adoration and love before taking out cake and lighting the candles. They had Mr Brown over too. The whole house was full of laughter and childish antics. That was when Chiro hadn't started to pretend that life was actually shit when you grow up.

The boy stared at the robot lying at his pillowside. He never tore his gaze away. If a person had seen him, they'd probably say that he stood at the same spot motionless for ten continuous minutes, never blinking, never showing any emotion.

It was hard to imagine how perfect his life was just a year ago.

"Happy birthday to me," Chiro broke out of his stance, mentally slapping himself for carelessly displaying his emotions to nobody in particular. Carefully, he unwrapped the green ribbon and in it revealed a sloppily made treat. The icing was scrawled on the cream messily, while plastic knife had already made several holes in the side of the cake. In the middle was "Happy Birthday Chiro" with small flower shaped biscuits surrounding it. The chocolate sprinkles had already fallen off, and the candle was coated with pink icing and strawberry syrup.

Chiro felt something slide down his face. His eyes burned, his throat tightened and turned dry, he could feel his heart being stabbed over and over again by memories which he could never lock up. Chiro let out a choked sob, letting out the tears that he'd been holding back for a long time.

To be completely honest, he hated it. He hated how, a few days ago, Tomson was surrounded by peers and noisy jocks, a huge 3 tier cake in front of him. He hated out they laughed and pushed one another around, while _he_ had to cry alone in the room. He hated how everyone was invited to celebrate Tomson's birthday, and _he_ just had to be the only one who didn't receive an invitation. He hated how different he was from the other kids, how he had to suffer all these while others, who had also lost their parents, could just laugh off everything and move on with life.

Chiro cut the cake into half, then three quarters, then into eights. He picked up a slice and placed it on a plastic plate he found in the box. Holding a fork, he broke off a piece and swallowed it forcefully.

How pathetic, eating your own cake with nobody else around while crying your eyes out.

_It'd be nice to have friends every once in a while, huh?_

At this point of time, Chiro couldn't help but agree. This day was supposed to be celebrated with his parents and his peers.

He realized that he didn't have either of those two.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Last chapter was kind of on-a-whim thing, so this chapter, some things will be explained. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Chapter 2. Warning: Vulgarities. A deeper insight in Chiro's life, monkeys will come in round Chapter 3-4. **

In a year, lots of things could happen. In a year, you could get a scholarship. In a year, you could build a decent house to live in. In a year, you could become the most athletic jock in school. In a year, you could get a medal from the principal on stage, under the brightest lights in the hall.

In a year, you could have your life torn apart.

Chiro didn't know when it had started, really. Sure, the signs were there, but he didn't exactly pay attention to them until he started to realize that there was no going back.

During the first day at the orphanage, Chiro didn't talk to anybody. He stayed away from all the rowdy kids in the hallway, lied on his bed and drifted in and out of sleep all day. He didn't have a roommate either. All the other kids had a form to fill in: who they wanted to room with and where they wanted their room to be. The council of the orphanage would then assign the kids to their respective rooms until all were satisfied. Chiro was given the form when he was brought to this place in a car. He looked at it and tossed it in the wastebin.

So, not wanting to agitate the depressed boy further, the council gave Chiro a room closest to the hall.

It was, after all, the safest.

Maybe it was the color of his eyes. Blue, representing the heaven and skies which everybody dreamt of going one day. Blue, the illusion that gave everyone the new hope that they'll reach paradise eventually, even though deep down, they cling desperately on to that crumbling piece of desire that everything will be fine in the end.

When Chiro first entered, his eyes stood out like a sore thumb in the sea of black and brown. That was what prompted the jocks to start bullying in the first place- to make sure that everybody was no different from one another in the end, so that one couldn't be higher than the other, unless it was them themselves.

Chiro made his way down the hall and to his next class, bag slung over his thin shoulder. The hallway was almost empty, except for a few other students still lingering around copying last minute homework.

"Hey, faggot."

Chiro turned around to find Matt glaring at him, leaning against an old orange locker which looked like it was about to collapse. His figure looked like a salute in a distance, but Chiro recognized it all too well.

"...G-go away, Matt," Chiro swallowed thickly, trying to keep his hands from shaking too much. He stayed rooted to the spot, not daring to move an inch.

It was a tense moment between the two. The jock's eyes narrowed into slits. He made his way towards Chiro-each footstep was utterly deafening- and bent towards the other, until their foreheads almost touched.

"You'll learn who not to mess with," Matt gritted out, his breath smelling of smoke, "one day, Chiro. One day. We'll teach you. That's a sure promise, _fag." _

Chiro could feel his throat go dry, but he leveled his own stare into Matt's, willing himself to act strong for just these few minutes. Just a few minutes before Matt walks away, before the sound of silence gets drowned in the crowd of students pouring down the hallway.

"I-I'll be waiting, then," he stammered a bit, trying to put on his most intimidating look, "I'll wait for you and the rest of your team coming to find me."

A flash of anger crossed Matt's eyes. Chiro could see a blue vein on his neck, before blinking rapidly for his mind to fully register that was happening. Matt slammed Chiro onto the wall, grabbing him around the neck and squeezing as hard as he could. Chiro wheezed, uselessly trying to push Matt off him. He could feel the fingers tighten around his throat, until his airway paths were completely blocked.

"Fucking faggot," the jock punched Chiro in the gut, "think you're so cool, eh? Think you will be special because of your fucking parents? Well, they ain't no special at all, fag! They were great people, but now they're _dead_. What makes you different from the rest of us? You're _stuck_ in this miserable place, waiting to be adopted and used like the rest of the _fucking_ cohort of kids. You ain't no unique, kid. You're _the same_."

Matt let go of Chiro and wiped his hand onto his football jacket in disgust.

"Kid," he said, turning around, "Consider this a lesson from me to you."

Matt stalked off and disappeared into the gym, slamming the door behind him. Chiro gasped and wheezed for air, taking in gulps before he was able to regain the normal pace of breathing. He winced when he rubbed the bruise that was forming on his stomach. The pain left his eyes burning.

_It couldn't get any worse, could it?_

Just then, the bell rang. Students and kids came stomping out of classrooms, shoving and pushing him aside. The whole hallway was filled, with students opening their locker doors to reach for books before closing them again to go to their next class. The atmosphere changed almost immediately, and all traces of silent pleas and fear were gone. Chiro stumbled off to the Language room, rubbing his eyes and praying that they didn't look swollen and red when he entered.

Chiro chose the backseat, as always. It was the only seat which he felt comfortable at, that didn't attract unnecessary attention to him. He placed his bag on the floor and flopped down, opening a book about _Macbeth. _He found it simple, really, considering that it was written centuries ago by another author in a different world.

As the second hand ticked by, Chiro could see most kids making their way in, chattering and settling down onto their seats. He felt their stares on him, but ignored the feeling as best as he could, and never once looked up or made eye contact with them. He picked up a pencil and drew onto a notebook, doodling pictures of the Sun riders and other superheroes which he read in books.

Superheroes had always been Chiro's escape from reality. It was always the happy ending, even though there wasn't necessarily always a happy beginning. Perhaps, if he were lucky, he could meet one. He had always envied the life of these heroes- saving people, doing good for the city, always able to fit in. Sure, it was childish of him, still believing in fantasy and magic, but people believed in things-true and false- to assure themselves that life wasn't as cruel as they thought it was all the time.

Like Matt said, _What made him any different?_

_Different _was a strong word. He was different, not in a very good way, always attracting attention and depending on others. His parents were gone, who does he have left to depend on? Nobody, really. He was on his own, and Chiro knew it, better than anyone else.

When the second bell rang, it was lunch. He had always dreaded this period. Sometimes he'd stay in his room for days and not come out during mealtimes because it was just too embarrassing to eat alone for lunch. Other times, his stomach mattered more and he forced himself to find a vacant table and devour his meal as quickly as possible.

"Might as well," Chiro grumbled, making his way to the cafeteria. The food was good, to say the least. Lunchladies served creamy mashed potatoes, along with a carton of milk, golden fries, salad and sandwiches with different fillings. There was also beef and mutton in gravy, or you could pick sushi and hoverburgers.

Chiro picked up a tray, lined up and scoured around for a table. There was one right in the corner, and he swiftly made his way down, swallowing thickly and avoiding the stares and whispers.

"He's such a loner, isn't he?"

"Why is he always so emotionless towards others?"

"God, what is with that poker face? It looks hideous."

"The vest he is wearing is so old fashioned. He should seriously get a life and go to the mall sometime."

Chiro felt his cheeks burning by the time he sat down. Quickly chewing his food while burying his head under a book, Chiro hoped that nobody would pay attention to him anymore.

In the orphange, this was another fact of life: If you are picked on, people will never let you out of their sight. They will torment you for everything you do, everything you say. Worse, there was only one way out: Find another victim or suffer this for the next few years.

Years later, when one asked why Chiro was so frightened of Krinkle, he would say that maybe it was because Krinkle reminded him too much of himself.


End file.
